


Call it a temporary crutch

by ashcat



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: 1940s, Bottom Steve Rogers, Dirty Talk, Homophobic Language, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Oral Sex, Possessive Behavior, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Prostitution, Protective Bucky Barnes, Rimming, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-05
Updated: 2014-08-05
Packaged: 2018-02-11 20:24:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2081931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashcat/pseuds/ashcat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the end of the month and they're short on rent money, so Steve takes matters into his own hands to earn some extra money.  Bucky isn't too pleased about it how he does it, though. (Prostitution fic set in 1940s Brooklyn)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Call it a temporary crutch

**Author's Note:**

> Please note that there is period typical homophobic language. I have endeavored to show the potential poverty they may have lived in and to show that prostitution may have been a viable option for how to alleviate the worst of that poverty at certain times. Steve also has some body image issues that are mentioned. 
> 
> For the [Solicited Love Challenge](http://solicited-love.livejournal.com) . Title from Onerepublic’s _Something I need_
> 
> Huge thanks to both storiesfortravellers and afiawri for looking this over and encouraging me as always.

Steve knew it was the right thing to do. Even if Bucky was going to blow a gasket. But he couldn’t live his life by what everyone said he should or shouldn’t do, even if the person saying it was _Bucky_. 

So, then it was time to get dressed and do it. Go before he thought too much about how mad Bucky was going to be when Steve dragged in late tonight. He picked up the little tray of their meager toiletries and his threadbare towel before heading for the shared bathroom for their floor. 

Wiping off the assorted hairs from other men’s earlier shaves, Steve again hoped that one day they could afford to live somewhere where they’d have their own private bathroom. That’d be swell. He washed his face, brushed his teeth, and checked to make sure he didn’t need to shave. At least his body knew how to grow facial hair even if it was unable to grow any muscles. 

He briefly considered using some of Bucky’s hair cream, but it always tended to make Steve’s hair look oily instead of styled and sexy like Bucky’s. Maybe it was because Steve’s was so much finer? Bucky’s hair was thick and plush, something the dames would coo over, like everything else he had that Steve didn’t. Putting the pot back on the tray, he looked himself over in the cramped shared bathroom. It was as good as it was going to get, he decided, as he took in his appearance. 

Going back into their apartment, Steve put on his second best shirt, suspenders and his tightest pants. He’d had them since high school and Bucky had told him they looked almost obscene how they hugged his ass. He smiled, that was something he had to show off, at least. After he was dressed, he had a few more items to get together. 

He rummaged in their first aid kit and found some vaseline in a small tin and slipped it into his pocket along with a bit of thin cotton bandaging strips. He also filched a couple of the condoms Bucky had stashed in the box, the good disposable ones that didn’t require you to wash and reuse. He’d explain later about that, make sure he bought Bucky a few more to make up for it. Steve was grateful that his mother had taught him and Bucky all she could of nursing and disease transmission as she lay dying in bed. Bucky was probably the best nurse Steve had ever had for his asthma or winter illnesses, outside of his Ma. She’d made sure to tell them about the diseases you could get from sex, since Bucky was already popular with the ladies. 

Steve couldn’t think about her, and what she’d say if she knew what he was about to go do. He’d felt so ashamed the first time he’d done it, thinking about her knowing he’d resorted to _that_. She’d hated when she saw young boys loitering in the movie theater lobbies or walking down on the stroll. Even if it was safer than the factory work that took fingers and hands, lives if you weren’t lucky. Still, she’d been a God fearing woman and she’d not approve. But well, she wasn’t here anymore, so Steve’d do what it took to stay as alive and healthy as he could just like she wanted for him. 

He patted his pockets and looked around the little dark apartment. That should be everything. The coat Bucky’s co-worker at the diner had given him was warm as he put it on. He slipped his hat and gloves on, too. If his knees got to aching he’d tie his gloves to them with the bandaging under his pants, the legs had enough play for that. He took a few deep breaths before opening the door. 

Bucky would be washing dishes at the diner until eleven, his second job after a day at the docks. Maybe Steve’d get lucky and beat him home tonight. Bucky worked so damn hard to take care of them. And they still didn’t have enough money to make rent this month.

Damn asthma and bronchitis and every other ailment Steve’s useless body fell prey to. He’d lost his job at the grocers because he’d been abed the past two weeks. So, it was time to go get some fast cash before they were more than three days late paying the landlord. Steve squared his shoulders and walked out the door with his head held high. He was going to earn his keep here even if all he had to offer was selling his body. 

At least this was one thing it didn’t usually fail him at.

_____________________________________________

At one in the morning, Steve limped back into their apartment. His lips were chapped and swollen from use, and he wasn’t going to be able to sit comfortably for a few days, but he had a wad of cash in his pocket. That’s what he led with when he saw Bucky sitting at their rickety dining table in one of the mismatched wooden chairs. Cigarette smoke lingered enough in the air to make him cough, and Bucky’s face was dark as a thundercloud as he stared at Steve.

“Hey Bucky,” Steve said, holding out the small roll of bills. Steve presented Bucky with the remainder of rent and some extra to make up for what they’d taken from their meager savings to pay for the bronchitis and asthma medicine this month. 

It’d been a lucrative night, and this was something Steve had always been able to do even though his body wasn’t good for much other kinds of work. He’d always been good at talking to people when they were willing to give him a chance, and well, some men really _enjoyed_ listening to Steve when he was offering what they wanted. He’d made in one night what Bucky could part-time at the diner in a week. 

Bucky hesitated, then he snatched it from Steve’s hand. “Don’t ‘Hey Bucky’ me.” 

“Don’t be like that.” Steve said, leaning in to kiss Bucky on the cheek. 

“You okay?” Bucky asked. His voice was still thick with tension.

“Yeah. I’m gonna wash up,” Steve said, then coughed a few more times, his lungs angry at the smoke on top of the cold damp night air he’d been breathing the past seven hours. He tried not to mentally blame Bucky, after all, Steve knew he only smoked in the apartment when it was freezing and he was really upset. Steve sighed. All he wanted to do right now was clean up and sleep. 

He grabbed his towel off the peg near the door and went to wash up in the communal bathroom. He couldn’t turn the shower on -- the pipes would be too loud for the sleeping families around them, but he could at least wash up with a rag and soap. He was quick with it, too tired to do more than get the smell of cologne off of him, scrub his sensitive parts to try to return them to being his again and no longer something other men had pawed tonight. 

When he came back, Bucky was still sitting at the table. But the air was clearer, he must have opened the window and tried to air it out while Steve was washing up. In fact, the apartment smelled like beans which reminded Steve that he hadn’t eaten since lunch. Once Steve had put the towel away and had on just his shorts and tank, Bucky moved. 

He picked up the money from the table with anger flashing in his eyes. He put it in with the rest of their money in the little metal box they kept hidden behind the pots and pans in the cabinet. He gave the pot on the stove a couple stirs before he turned around. Steve could see he was seething. 

“You know you didn’t have to do that. I’d of found a way to get the money.” 

Steve was too tired to argue. His knees were sore, even though he had used his gloves as padding. He sat down in the other hard wooden chair with a wince. “You can’t do this and work two jobs Buck.” 

“With how sick you’ve been you shouldn’t have been out in the cold, much less doing _that_.” Steve coughed again, and Bucky got up and brought Steve a glass of water, despite the argument.

“I’m all right. It wasn’t that bad. Mostly rich guys from Manhattan tonight.” Steve took the glass with a small smile, letting his fingers brush Bucky’s before drinking it. The cool water felt good on his sore throat. 

“And what if it’d been some mobster or angry dock worker?” 

“Then I’d have dealt with it, same as you’d have done in my place.” Steve said, trying to stay calm in the face of Bucky’s frustration. 

Bucky snorted in reply. “I can beat up some rich fairy from uptown or look mean enough to dissuade a mobster or other dock worker. But you,” Bucky’s tirade changed timbre from anger to the genuine anguish that the bluster had been hiding. “It’s dangerous, Stevie. You coulda been killed.” 

Steve heard the underlying message: _I love you and please don’t leave me like everyone else seems to._ And he won’t leave Bucky. Not by choice anyway.

“And you could get crushed by a pallet or fall into the machinery on the docks tomorrow.” Steve sighed. “Both of us sometimes do dangerous things to keep a roof over our heads.”

“You shouldn’t have _had_ to do that though,” Bucky said. 

There they were, same place this always ended up. Bucky blaming himself that he hadn’t found some way to make enough money when Steve was the one dragging them down. Bucky would have had plenty of money if he had a healthy roommate sharing the space here. One who worked steady and could consistently provide his half. 

“Neither of us have got that many options. I’m using the one way I _can_ reliably make money quick. Now you can actually take Sunday off and get some rest before you make yourself ill working so much,” Steve said, both wishing that Bucky could understand that he had to feel useful, and also glad that Bucky had had to feel like a burden as Steve so often felt himself. 

Steve knew that Bucky didn’t want to fight any more than he did. And Bucky proved that by sighing himself, shoulders slumping. “It ain’t right.”

“It’s not,” Steve agreed quietly. “But it’s how it is now.” Standing with a soft grunt, Steve stepped over so he could lay a hand on Bucky’s arm. “One day, we’ll have enough money saved up that neither of us will have to do that.” 

Bucky’s hand covered Steve’s, his tanned, callused hand looking strange over Steve’s white soft skin. “And we can move outta this shit hole and have actual heating that works and windows that provide some ventilation in the summer.” 

Steve chuckled softly, squeezing Bucky’s arm. “Yeah, and not have to share the bathroom with three other families.” He felt some of the tension flow out of him as the situation diffused. 

“The Johnson’s are plain filthy. There was shit on the floor by the toilet from their kid they’re trying to get out of diapers this morning.” 

Shaking his head, Steve gently pulled his hand from Bucky’s and walked over to the sink to refill his water glass and get a bit of the moonshine Bucky kept in a glass jar. “You want some?” 

“Nah, I’ll fall asleep at the table if I have that.” 

Steve nodded and just poured himself a splash and came back to the table. He worked harder to suppress the wince this time as he sat. Maybe in that magical future they’d have some cushions for the dining chairs too. 

They talked about their days after that, normal things like they always did. Bucky describing some of the more interesting dining patrons he saw while bussing tables, stories of what kinds of crates he hauled that day and the huge bugs that fled one of the boxes that had smashed bananas in it. 

Bucky stood and fixed Steve a plate with some beans, and a couple thick slices of bread. When he brought it back to the table, he placed it in front of Steve with the first real smile he’d given him all evening. “Here, I know you had’ta be hungry.” 

“Thanks, I was.” Steve smiled back at Bucky. He always took care of Steve, no matter how mad he might have been at him just a little while ago.

In between bites, Steve talked about what their neighbors had been up to and told a story about one of the other guys out on the stroll who was dressed up like a dame. They’d apparently not noticed that now people wanted rough trade, men looking like Bucky more than the girly guys who were popular ten, twenty years ago. 

The alcohol and food had done their jobs and Steve felt more relaxed and fuzzy now. It took the edge off the aches of his body, and made it easier to forget what he’d done tonight. He might not have been ashamed to do his part to keep them sheltered and fed, but it didn’t mean he’d enjoyed letting strangers manhandle him. 

He’d had a belly full of hands on him as a kid dragged to the doctors all the time. 

As Bucky finished up an anecdote of how he’d seen a bit of the girl’s knees when he was bussing tables, she was wearing one of those short flapper skirts, right below her knee, with her stockings rolled down, he let his eyes rake over Steve. 

That intense look made Steve squirm a bit. It’s like Bucky could see the imprints left from all the hands that touched him tonight. See where other men’s spunk had been on him even though he had tried to wipe it off with the bandages earlier. Like he knew Steve’s hole was so puffy and sore he dreaded even thinking of taking a shit later. 

They fell into companionable silence. Steve ate the last bite of his bread, plate cleaned. They traded looks that got more charged as Steve finished off his water, licking a drop from his lips. Bucky’s eyes stayed glued to Steve’s mouth. It made his lips tingle, and Steve licked them again. 

Bucky stood, walking slowly over, eyes heatedly boring into Steve. Then he stopped by Steve’s chair until Steve turned to face Bucky. _God, Bucky was gorgeous,_ Steve thought as Bucky gracefully knelt down right there between Steve’s knees on the floor. A bit of hair fell in his eyes, no longer held back by the cream, as he looked up at Steve, and all Steve could think was how nice it’d be to brush it out of Bucky’s face, lean forward and kiss those lips. 

Buck must have been thinking the same thing, since his hand came up and cupped Steve’s cheek, thumb running over Steve’s lips. It felt rough against the sensitive skin; all the hard labor had made Bucky’s hands hard, tough. 

“It shoulda been me. I _hate_ it when you do this,” Bucky said quietly, eyes so earnest that it broke Steve’s heart a bit. Bucky’s hand fell back to his side. 

“I know.” Steve’s hands reached out and cupped Bucky’s cheeks in return, thumbs trailing over the stubble there. Always so virile, so _male_ without having to try. Steve envied that a bit. He leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss against Bucky’s mouth. Used the lips that were wrapped around a rich man’s prick no more than two hours ago down on the stroll to try to show Bucky how much he loved him. 

The returned kiss from Bucky was rough, needy. Steve had been surprised at first with how jealous Bucky could be over him. That Bucky seemed to want to possess _him_ , even with all the women who threw themselves at him. That somehow Steve was a better catch than any dame Bucky’d ever charmed into bed. Bucky still slept with plenty of women, but it was Steve who he came home to every night. That was their life; they couldn’t be seen as anything but friends. Bucky told them down at the docks that they were brothers to justify the time off when Steve was real sick. 

Brothers. It was enough. 

Steve broke their kiss first, having to gasp for air. Bucky stood, pulling Steve’s tank off right there at the table before pulling him to his feet. They traded sloppy kisses and touches, and Bucky’s shirt was pulled off somewhere in the living room, on their way back to their sagging double bed. 

All his exhaustion had left Steve for the moment, fueled by the liquor and Bucky’s desire. He undid Bucky’s flies and grinned when he saw that Bucky forgot to wear underwear. Again. Then Steve was pushing his own shorts down so that they were both naked. 

Bucky barely let him get them off before he had a double handful of Steve’s firm ass. Bucky wasn’t gentle with Steve like he might have normally been. It was always like this if Steve had had to sell himself. Bucky needed to reclaim Steve as his. 

Like Steve had ever wanted to be anything _but_ Bucky’s. 

Steve was sore but he wouldn’t say no to Bucky. He could rarely deny Bucky anything, really. He managed to untangle himself from Bucky’s embrace to climb onto the bed. He pulled the blankets down so he’d only have to wash the sheets in the morning, always the practical one in the face of Bucky’s heedless passion. 

Lying on the bed reminded him how tired he was, but then Bucky was on him, distracting him from those thoughts. Bucky’s tongue licked against his chapped lips, delving into Steve’s mouth until he could forget the tang of other men’s spunk on his tongue. Making sure all he could taste now was Bucky in his mouth, no one else. 

So that he was _only_ Bucky’s again.

When Steve started wheezing, Bucky pulled back to let him catch his breath. As Steve panted, Bucky kissed along his body, nibbling on Steve’s tiny pert nipples. 

“Ahhh!” Steve can’t ever keep quiet when Bucky does that. They were always so sensitive. 

The grin Bucky gave Steve in reply was positively smug. He liked to tease Steve that his tits were better than any dame’s. It never failed to make Steve blush, and he blushed a bit now thinking about it. If possible, Bucky got even more smug as Steve felt his skin heat from his cheeks down his throat to his chest. 

“That’s my pretty Stevie, so sensitive for me,” Bucky said, kissing and nipping at Steve’s nipples until Steve started to squirm, hoarse noises escaping him at every breath. 

Only then did Bucky relent, now dropping reverent kisses along Steve’s traitorous chest, which always doomed any savings they could put away. Bucky’s lips treating him like he’s something delicate, valuable, not showing any of the resentment Steve often thought Bucky had to feel for Steve’s defective body. 

“You’re the pretty one,” he teased when Bucky started sucking on one of his prominent hipbones. 

“You know it,” Bucky replied with a wink before switching to suck a matching bruise on the other side. His hands are gentle against Steve’s body even as he uses a bit of teeth to ensure it’s a nice, dark mark. 

“Aaah…” Steve shifted and gasped again. He’d always taken a perverse satisfaction in Bucky marking him. A way to remind himself that he’s Bucky’s, even when Bucky’s out with a dame. His hands shifted down to thread into Bucky’s hair, messing it up even more, when Bucky urged Steve’s thighs apart. 

“Fuck…,” Steve said as Bucky’s breath ghosted over Steve’s cock. It was solidly at attention. He’d admit that he got hard a few times tonight, but nowhere near as aroused as he was right now. Not even when the one guy with the English accent had known what he was doing when he fucked Steve, making it actually feel good instead of like a chore. 

“You want my mouth?” Bucky asked, with another grin. 

Another puff of breath against Steve’s cock had him squirming. “You know damn well I want your fucking lips wrapped around my dick.” 

Bucky chuckled. Steve suspected Bucky took a perverse pleasure in making Steve be vulgar in bed. But he couldn’t have anymore coherent thoughts, when Bucky took him in, fast and deep, not playing around. Steve groaned and moved as much as Bucky’s firm hand pinning his hip down allowed. 

The room was quiet then except for their panting breaths and the slick sounds of Bucky’s mouth bobbing on Steve’s cock. Steve had to put his own hand over his mouth to try to keep quiet as Bucky bobbed and sucked hard on him. He still talked, words muffled. 

“So good, fuck, so good,” he babbled as Bucky kept an even pressure all along the slide out of his mouth then taking Steve deep again.

Pulling off with a wet pop, Bucky immediately ran his fingers behind Steve’s sack to gingerly touch Steve’s rim. 

Steve yelped, knees trying to close. Well fuck, he hadn’t thought he was going to be _that_ sore. 

“Oh baby,” Bucky said softly, frowning at Steve. “You that tender?” 

“Yeah...pretty sore.” The other guy he’d let fuck him had been huge, and fuck it had smarted and still did at the moment. Steve panted a bit, cock wetly twitching still hard and needy. 

“Come on,” Bucky urged as he went to help Steve turn over. “I want to make sure you’re okay.” 

“I’m fine,” Steve protested even as he let Bucky move him. He knew Bucky wouldn’t let it go until he got to inspect Steve himself. 

Bucky’s hands gingerly parted Steve’s cheeks. He let out a soft whistle. “You look like you’re hurting.” 

Fuck if _that_ didn’t make Steve’s cheeks heat even more, enough to blush all the way down his chest. God, did Bucky have to talk while he stared at Steve’s used hole? He squirmed trying to get away a bit.

“Did you bleed any?” Bucky asked and then Steve felt a finger gently touching his rim again. 

“Argh. No, no blood. I’m _fine_. Just sore for the next couple days.” Steve squirmed in earnest. 

“Be still,” Bucky admonished, pulling Steve’s cheeks even farther apart. “I want to make sure you’re okay.”

Steve could feel the bed shake as Bucky shifted, but he was not prepared when he felt hot air against his hole followed immediately by a wet lick along his rim. He yelped, not able to stifle it fast enough in his shock. 

“Fuck!” 

Bucky ran his tongue over Steve’s hole again, and oh god. They almost never did this, but it always blew Steve’s mind. Steve couldn’t get over how sensitive he was here, even more than his nipples. And damn, Bucky’s tongue was so agile, and talented. As talented at this as everything else they did together in bed. 

It didn’t take more than a few minutes of Bucky lapping at him, the room full of the wet, obscene noises of it, before Steve was coming, hips rutting his cock against the sheets. He had to bite his pillow to be quiet as the intensity washed over him, whiting out all his thoughts. 

When Steve was with it again, he looked over his shoulder to see that Bucky was kneeling behind him now. Bucky’s hand was flying over his cock, his bottom lip between his teeth. God, he was gorgeous, and Steve’s spent cock gave a twitch in acknowledgement. 

“You gonna come on me, Bucky? Paint your spunk on me?” 

When all Bucky did was grunt in reply, Steve knew he was close. He shifted enough to get his arms out from under him and instead reached back and spread his cheeks for Bucky. It was embarrassing, but the moan Bucky gave in answer was enough to make him keep himself on display. 

“You thinking about fucking me?” Steve shivered. “I know I am. I can almost feel how wide you’ll stretch me around your cock. How your come will feel leaking out of me.” Steve managed not to spontaneously combust with the dirty talk. “Come on, come for me, mark me as yours.” 

The groan was loud as Bucky came, his hot come hitting Steve’s rim, his ass cheek, his lower back. Bucky stroked himself through it, eyes glued to Steve’s body. 

Steve smiled, letting go of his cheeks and relaxing back flat on the bed. He didn’t mind Bucky’s come on him, it was almost like the bruises – it made him feel wanted. Owned. Bucky’s fingers felt hot against his skin when he began to rub the sticky semen into Steve’s flesh. 

It tickled on his lower back and he giggled a little, half punch drunk with exhaustion and the bit of alcohol he had earlier. He sighed when Bucky followed up his ticklish touches with more wet kisses against his skin. “I’m yours, Buck. All yours,” Steve said softly. 

“Mine,” Bucky agreed. He dropped kisses up Steve’s spine until he could place a kiss on Steve’s shoulder, then neck. His hands were gentle as they rolled Steve over onto his back. 

Steve dozed a bit while Bucky got a rag and wet it in the kitchen sink to clean off Steve’s front and Bucky’s cock and hand. The come he’d rubbed into Steve’s back and ass would stay until Steve had a proper shower in the morning. 

He woke up enough to curl around Bucky once he’d gotten back into bed. “Love you,” Steve slurred as he was already half asleep. 

“I love you too,” Bucky said softly. His fingers running through Steve’s hair was the last thing Steve felt before falling asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> A few random things I discovered researching this time period and prostitution:
> 
> \- Petroleum Jelly (Vaseline was the brand at the time) was standard issue in soldier’s medkits in WWII and a staple in first aid kits all over. It was used to treat cuts and burns. 
> 
> \- Parents did sometimes prefer their young teenage sons to prostitute themselves rather than work in mills. They were concerned if anyone showed too much repeat interest as that was viewed as possibly taking advantage. 
> 
> \- Men who worked hard physical labor jobs like at the docks were called ‘rough trade’ and were very popular as prostitutes for awhile as the rich viewed them as exotic and fetishized them during the 30’s and early 40s. 
> 
> -Before ‘rough trade’ was popular men often dressed like women when they were prostituting themselves. Most whorehouses had at least one man dressed as a woman so that they could cater to all tastes in the early 1900s up through the 20s.


End file.
